Batman: Return of the Dark Knight
by TritonAuthor24
Summary: It is only a few days after Raa's Al Ghul's attack on Gotham. Tells of the coming of the Joker and Batman's fight against him. Please enjoy and please send me reviews. I really want to know what you think. Give me ideas and I'll try to include them.
1. Chapter 1: The Creation of a Madman

Batman: Return of the Dark Knight

It was a cold night in Gotham City. A cold and dim night. But Joe Kerr didn't care, no one would attack him. He had Batman to thank for that. The already legendary caped crusader guarded civilians like Joe on dark nights in dark alleyways like this one. Many thought of him as some sort of hero, but Joe was convinced he was a megalomaniac with many issues.

But he still knew that the 'superhero' would save him if he was in trouble despite his vulgar opinion of the man. He was right outside of Wayne Towers. The tall golden building was enormous from the alleyway. He stepped into the main lobby and felt the warmth of the automated heaters hit him.

Right in front of him stood the security guard monitoring the metal detector. Joe emptied his belongings into one of the plastic buckets and slid it through. The security guard gave him the ok and he walked through. He collected his belongings from the bucket and headed towards the elevator nearly twenty meters away.

He pushed the Up button and stepped back, awaiting the elevator's arrival. He was all alone, even the desk clerk had gone home. As he peered around, he felt right where he should be, he usually worked late at night. It was part of his 'overtime' assignment. He needed it. The mortgaging of his house had just fallen through and the bank had denied his loan. His wife, Mary, was pregnant and they desperately needed the cash. _Ding_. The signaling of the elevator shook him from his troubles. The doors slid open and he stepped inside.

He pushed the button for the fifteenth floor and stood silently as the door closed and the elevator descended upward.

Joe stepped out of the elevator and walked up to the main door labeled: Laboratory. The doorknob had a slot for the key. He stuck in the key hanging around his neck that had his information including his picture, name, birth date, gender, height, eye color, etc.

The light on the doorknob lit up green and Joe pushed through, opening the door. When he walked in he scanned the room, checking for any other late night workers. He was definitely alone.

He walked over to his desk and jiggled the mouse to his computer, waking it up from hibernation. It shone bright, displaying all of his icons and his writing document open behind the Wayne logo as his background. Maximizing his writing document, he quickly read over what he had typed before he left to go home for dinner. His project was almost done. The formula was almost perfect. Ever since the attack on Gotham led by Ra's Al Ghul and the Scarecrow, Wayne Enterprises had been working with some of the compound mixtures used to scare the civilians. His field of research was working on a compound that made people go clinically insane when either inhaled or drunk. And just in case anyone ever decided to try to unleash it among Gotham City, the antidote would be ready within a few days time.

He grabbed the notebook and pencil left on his desk and crossed out two of the formulas and began writing a new one. He crossed it out and tried again. After a few tries, he tosses aside the notebook and walked over to the large basin in which the solution lie. It stood still for nothing had touched it for quite a while. He began to wonder about what it would be like to be clinically insane. What could possibly go through someone's head to ever want to break the law or commit a murder? He did not know and did not want to know. But they were getting close. His field was ahead of all the other ones in that the attack had only happened the night before. This project had been going on for quite a while but only with the power change and Bruce Wayne becoming CEO again and with the attack had it been made urgent. Joe had been woken up at 2:00 in the morning to start working on it.

The phone rang. He ran to pick it up, but the line was dead. It rang again, but the phone was still in his hand. It was then that he realized it was his cell phone. He pulled it out and answered it. "Hello?" he asked, his voice sounding odd in the silence.

"Mr. Kerr? This is Tom the security guard from downstairs. Do you know a Mary? She says she's your wife but left her ID at home. Should I let her in?"

"Yes, please do. Thank you." He hung up the phone and awaited his wife to meet him up there.

"Oh Joe I just thought I would pay you a visit. I know you're working late and all and thought you could use the company," Mary said when she had come in. She gave him a kiss and then looked around, her bright blonde hair flowing as she did. "It looks so different at night with only your desk light on." She said.

"Mary. I'm very happy to see you here but I have to get back to work. So if you could, would you please just take a seat and wait 'till I'm done?"

Mary nodded and looked around for a seat. She sat down and looked at the spray bottle on the table. It was a clear liquid inside. She opened it and sniffed, it smelled like old water. She was thirsty. She took a swig and immediately grabbed her throat. "Aww, What is this Joe?"

Joe swiveled around and his eyes widened in fear, "That's the reprocessed toxin that was used on the attack on Gotham. You didn't?" he didn't have to finish the sentence. He knew the answer. Mary dropped to her knees, gazed up at her husband in the blue suit she had given him, mouthed 'I love you' and then died.

"WHY G-D! WHY DID SHE HAVE TO DIE! WHY DID SHE HAVE TO BE SO STUPID AND DRINK THE SOLVENT! WHY!" he yelled and backed up from his deceased wife in horror as blood began to trickle from her mouth. He tripped over the basin and fell in screaming.

It was five minutes later when Joe Kerr stepped out of the basin. His suit had survived, but the color had changed. It was a deep purple now. He walked over to the mirror, kicking his dead wife out of his way as he went. She was nothing more than a dead fool to him now. His hair was bright green and his face was an unnatural pearly white. He looked at his name tag. Most of the letters had smeared but his name still remained for the most part. But it was changed, it no longer said Joe Kerr but instead the e and one of the 'r's had been rubbed off. All that was left was: 'JoKer'. "Joker?" he said with a high-pitched voice. I like the sound of that." he began to laugh, but it sounded different than his normal laugh. He paused for a minute and put his hand to his lips.

Then he smiled, tilted his head back, and let out a laugh that could curdle new milk.

He ran down the stairs, new adrenaline pumping throughout his body. He kept a wicked smile on his face the entire time as he jumped and hopped the staircases, picking up speed.

When he reached the lobby, he was panting, but he felt like a changed man. He was ready for action. He wanted… he wanted… REVENGE. Revenge on all of Gotham for making him poor. And he was going to get it. Thinking quickly, he ran to the lobby and kicked the glass in setting off an alarm.

He ran to the cards section and grabbed a whole bunch of decks. He ran over to the checkout and grabbed four bags and ran back to the cards section and began filling them up. The plastic bags were completely filled and he was about to run out when Tom, the security guard that had called earlier was facing him with a gun. "FREEZE NOW! DROP THE BAGS AND STEP AWAY!"

Joker smiled wickedly. "But I only wanted a few decks of cards."

"Well you should've waited 'till morning."

Joker began to clench his fists and then lunged at Tom. Before the security guard knew what was happening, Joker was over him with his gun to his head. "Don't tell me to wait and tell me what I can and cannot do!" he fired three rounds of the gun right into Tom's forehead and laughed like a maniac.


	2. Chapter 2: Familiar Faces

It was a dark night for Bruce Wayne, but then again, most nights were to him. It must have been past midnight. Bruce Wayne had drifted off into the dark and out came something entirely different. Out came something hardly natural and very intimidating to any. Out came Batman.

The Gotham Press had nicknamed him 'The Dark Knight', and he sort of liked it. It made him seem like one of the knights that protected their countries long ago. He had to work in the night though, not only is that when crime mostly struck in Gotham but his outfit looked ridiculous in the daylight. For the most part anyways; it wasn't exactly like those feel good superheroes that companies like Marvel produce in comic books by the thousands… he was the real deal. No vigilante, no superpowers, just a man seeking liberty and peace in a corrupt town.

He stood on the roof of Wayne Towers, gazing at the bat-sign that Lieutenant Gordon had put up. It wasn't on, but when he had the time, he enjoyed gazing at the bat. _Snap out of it Bruce,_ he told himself, _you don't have the time_.

He turned around, ran to the edge of the roof and jumped, spreading his arms and letting the cape fold up and catching the wind like a parachute. He glided down to the dark city floor where even at this time at night, traffic was booming.

Out of experience, he glided into one of the dark alleyways. He had to track a murderer for Gordon. He gave him his word. Some maniac that called himself the Joker. So far, Batman's sources were very, very limited.

Sighing at his bad luck for yet another night, he turned around and headed back to his car; which had been cleverly nicknamed the Batmobile. Hopping into the 'tank', he started the engine and listened to it purr. Then pulling the lever into drive, he headed out onto the street, fast enough so that no one could catch him… not even Gotham City Police.

Zooming across the semi-open roads, he put his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn and hoped for better luck tomorrow.

_I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!_ Rachel Dawes thought to herself as she clutched her briefcase tightly in her right hand and was fiddling with her phone with the other one. She had a slim figure, attractive features, and long straight black hair. She wore a deep red, leather suit and high heeled shoes.

"C'mon," she said as she entered the elevator, "five-five-five four-five-two-SEVEN!" She said and then put the phone to her ear, listening to it ring.

Finally someone picked up, "Hello?" a rather agitated and raggedy voice answered.

Rachel's eyebrows lifted up at hearing his voice, "Hi. Yes. Harvey, it's me Rachel. I'm kinda running a little late today. Slept in, my stupid alarm clock didn't go off. But I have good news yet."

"Yes Rachel?" Harvey Dent asked.

"The files on this new guy they call the 'Joker' just came in. I know we're not exactly detectives, but how you feeling about a little bit of sleuthing?"

Harvey's reply was rather dry and invasive, but Rachel could have sworn she heard a smile slowly arriving upon his lips, "How is it that you are the only one that ever gets all the good info? Huh? And I don't buy any of that 'Batman gave it to me' junk."

Rachel smirked at hearing Batman's name, "Well then I can't exactly tell you can I?" And before he could answer, she had hung up the phone and stepped through the elevator onto her floor.


	3. Chapter 3: Psychiatric Help

Chapter 3: Psychiatric Help

Harleen Quinzel walked into her office, her phone clutched between her left ear and shoulder. Talking fast, she grabbed the folder that her secretary, Elle Burns, was holding out.

"No, no, no Danny. I'm about ready to upgrade you to Arkham. You need to lay off the steroids," she said onto the phone.

She was silent for a while, listening to the person on the other end, then started up again. "NO. DANIEL BANE. You need to stop the steroids. Ok, I'm sending professional help over to your house. No I don't care what you say." And she hung up before he could argue anymore.

She turned to Elle, "Is anyone in there waiting for me?"

"No, but Mr. Kerr called. He needs to speak with you."

"Financial Problems again?"

"Dun know, he wouldn't say. Said to meet him on Westforth Avenue, by the old theater. You know the place, where the Waynes were shot years ago."

Harleen looked puzzled, "Why there?"

Elle sighed, "Wouldn't say that either. So you gonna meet with him?"

"He is my patient and I do need to treat him. What time does he want me there?"

"Seven-thirty tonight."

Harleen nodded then walked over to the wooden door that had a large glass panel on it. Upon which, in thick black ink, read: Harleen Quinzel Psychologist.

She turned the door knob and opened the door and stepped inside. She walked around to the desk and placed the folder on it. She was about to sit down when she noticed a blank letter on the desk. She opened it and out fell a bottle of perfume. There was a note in there too that read:

Dear Harley,

Thank you for all the help and I hope you can meet me tonight.

Your wackiest patient,

Joe Kerr

P.S.- Wear the perfume.

"That was nice of him," she said to herself, "but how did he get it in here? Oh well I might as well enjoy it." She sprayed a little bit out onto her hand and sniffed it.

Almost immediately she felt the symptoms. Her eyes rolled back and she started to shake violently like she was having a seizure. She felt high and tipsy but she was so happy. She saw pretty white flowers and she was rolling in them-

She snapped back. "Whoa! That's some strong perfume." She continued to work, but little did she know that even the small amount plus the amount she was to wear that night was enough to turn even the sanest human psycho.


	4. Chapter 4:Harvey and Bruce

Chapter 4: Bruce and Harvey

"If you want to go sleuthing and get yourself into trouble Rachel, go ahead. But I'm late for a meeting at Wayne Towers with the head honcho himself," Harvey Dent told Rachel Dawes as he collected his things and headed out to the elevator.

"Alright, I get it Harvey. And Bruce isn't exactly what you'd call a 'head honcho' at least the way he runs Wayne Enterprises. He's more of a laid back boss really, and he never does any of the firing; lets others do it."

"Rachel," Harvey sighed, "with all of your knowledge and connections and perseverance, its an amazement you're not a more prominent attorney."

Rachel smiled, "Thanks, but I do just fine for myself." She finished just as the elevator door closed.

Harvey's attempt to not be late turned out better than he could have anticipated. He had arrived _early_ to the meeting and only Bruce was in there. He sat at the top of the long, oval table with his elbows resting neatly on it and his hands clenched together softly touching his lips.

He looked up at hearing Harvey enter, "Ah, the famous Harvey Dent!" Bruce stood up.

Harvey said hello with a slight nod and shook Bruce's hand. It was a firmer grip then he had expected.

"How are things at the D.A's office?" Bruce asked, starting up a conversation.

Harvey shrugged his shoulders, "Well same as always I guess. So how are things running Wayne Enterprises?"

"I wouldn't know," Bruce admitted, "I'm only here for the board meetings. Lucius is the one that runs the company. I gave him that job."

"Oh," was all Harvey could answer. He made a mental note to ask Rachel why she hadn't told him this. _Most likely,_ he thought, _so she could embarrass me in front of her best friend_. It wouldn't have been the first time that Harvey was the butt of a seemingly harmless joke between Bruce and Rachel.

"Listen," Bruce said, grabbing Harvey's attention, "we have about five minutes before the meeting starts. Do you want to go get a drink by any chance?"

Harvey smiled, "Sure Bruce." They walked out of the room, leaving their coats to mark that they had been there, and Harvey was talking the whole way out, "You know Rachel is so obsessed with this 'Joker' character. It's almost as if she thinks she's saving Gotham. Weird huh?"

_I wonder what new info she has that I don't,_ Bruce thought to himself. He held his interest in check, "H-has she gotten any new info?"

Harvey sighed, "Well she says she does, but with Rachel, new info could mean even the smallest bit."

"Yeah, I know," Bruce admitted, "but she didn't get anything new?"

Harvey shot Bruce a quizzical look, "Why're you so interested?"

Rather than argue that he didn't, he reasoned with Harvey, "The guy has been shooting people left and right and well you know how I feel about murderers." He gave Harvey a look that pretty much meant 'let's keep it at that.'

They went down to the lobby and into the café there. "So how's business?" Harvey asked, "I mean from your perspective."

Bruce shrugged, "Ah well just as good as its always been I guess. Well how about your business?"

"Rachel is really the one bringing in the cash, I'm just there to help. But let me tell you, I will do anything to help bring down that Joker fellow. Anything." Bruce looked at him, "I know, I know, it doesn't seem like it, but I have just been in a rut lately. But I will stop at nothing to bring this crazed psycho behind bars."

Bruce smiled, "Right. So then what'd you think about Batman?"

Harvey seemed surprised by the question, "That guy's just trying to help in my opinion. Leave him alone. I don't know how many judges have actually agreed with me on this, but the commissioner still wants to pursue him. It's insane!"

"Tell me about it," Bruce agreed, "but like I've always said, the guy most likely has issues. But his heart's in the right place. No doubt."

Harvey smirked, "Yeah… no doubt."


	5. Chapter 5: First Conflict

Chapter 5: First Conflict

Harvey Dent had thoroughly enjoyed his conversation with Bruce Wayne, but the board meeting not so much. It was so cluttered with trivial issues about Wayne Enterprises before they even got to why Harvey had been invited. All the maniacs that the Scarecrow's thugs had released were roaming wild and protecting Gotham was considered a job for the D.A's office and _not_ the corrupted police department.

Quite the do-gooder, Bruce considered it his rightful duty to fund the 'battle' against the maniacs and being the most powerful legal company in all of Gotham, Wayne Enterprises was the perfect engine.

Harvey was on his way back from the meeting in his arranged limo (Bruce had insisted). The driver, Howard, was a lean man with a salt and pepper beard and hair. He had an elongated face and crooked nose upon which sat glasses that looked too small for his face. He wore the usual tux, but seemed very uncomfortable in it.

"Howard," Harvey called to the driver, resting his hand on the back of his chair.

"Yes Mr. Dent?" Howard answered.

"Could you hurry it up please? I need to see someone that is at my office before she leaves and her phone's voicemail is full."

"As you wish Mr. Dent," Howard replied and Harvey could feel the car speed up through the vacant street. It was rather odd and quite rare that the streets were so empty, but rather than make a big deal about it, Harvey leaned back in his seat and enjoyed.

They went along, passing the dark street shops that had closed down for the night and the few that were still open. Harvey knew quite well that what was advertised there was not really what was being sold and since Falcone was mentally ill all of them were going down.

_Thank G-d for Batman. If it wasn't for him this city would still be in a rut. Luckily enough for the D.A's office he was able to, for the most part, hand us Falcone on a gold platter. Now if he could only get this Joker fellow off our ba-_.

Harvey stopped in mid thought. There had been a loud bang. Howard had stopped the car. _What the?_ Howard wasn't moving and they had stopped abruptly.

Harvey leaned forward and tapped his driver's shoulder. Howard did not respond. Harvey shook Howard violently but the only reaction was Howard's head fall down. Harvey swore as he saw the bullet wound that had killed his driver. He needed to get out of the car and fast.

He unbuckled his seat belt and went for the door on the right, his closest. He tried to push it open but it was stuck. Quickly, he wheeled around and went for the other door, but as he turned to face it he stared… awestruck.

Upon the window on the outside facing in was the easily recognizable playing card of a Joker.

"Where is he? How is he?" Rachel Dawes demanded as she busted through the flapping doors to the Emergency Room in Gotham Hospital. Two quite flustered doctors were quickly huddling in her wake trying their best to answer her questions.

"He's in Room 12B Miss Dawes. He has been heavily traumatized," replied the doctor on the right, talking fast. They made their way hastily down several corridors as Rachel searched for Room 12B.

The doctors continually tried pointing her in the right direction but she just shushed them every time until they gave up. After around five minutes of searching, Rachel found the room, but instead of going in it, she pulled her hair back around her ears and started pacing.

She was mumbling to herself, "Should I go in – don't know what to do – who would know what to do." She let out a moan of frustration, took a deep breath and opened the door to Room 12B.

What she saw inside the room nearly crushed her heart. Her boss and dear friend Harvey Dent was lying on the bed breathing through a mask. The wiring ran from his arms and chest to computers to the left of the bed. Each monitor monitored his progress. The main one had a large wavy green line representing his life line. Speakers protruding from the monitor on either side gave out recurring beeps marking his heart beat.

To the other side of the bed was a long, shiny silver pole that, at the tip, curved around into a horizontal pole. Right around the curve hung a bag of oxygen from which a wire ran through to the mask that encompassed Harvey's nose and mouth.

"Oh Harvey," Rachel gasped, "who could've done this to you? What kind of sick person and for what reason?" She made her way around the side of the bed and to the chair beside it where, after smoothing out her skirt, sat down.

At this question, Harvey's eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets. Lighting up like fireworks on the Fourth of July he began to moan loudly. More of a screech, it was of pure horror. It got louder and louder until it turned into a scream. He began to get up out of the bed in some sort of zombie-like state.

Rachel put her hand out and touched his. It had been lifted off of the armrest during his outcry, but she put it back down softly. She caressed his hand slowly, calming him down. Reassuring him, she lowered him back down into his bed, as he took a breath and rolled his eyes back sleepily.

Rachel was about to leave to let him sleep when, surprisingly enough, he spoke, "R – Rachel… Rachel," he said gathering her attention.

"I'm here," she assured him, "I'm right here."

"It was that ma – madman you were tal - tal – talking about. The… one…with…the…calling…c – card. That face…those eyes… The Joker. The Joker. The Joker. THE JOKER! THE JOKER! THE JOKER!" he continued screaming that name.

Rachel shut her eyes tight as a powerful flashback hit her. She turned away from Harvey and tried to drown out his yelling. She put her right thumb and index finger to her eyes and began massaging them. She shut them tighter as the memory got stronger and fresher in her mind. Suddenly she was back with Jonathan Crane.

They were standing in the pale white hallway of the hospital where Crane worked… Arkham. Many doctors walked by, most of them too caught up in their work to notice the two standing there.

The two were staring in through a protective glass window to a room where only a bed lay. In that bed laid a man, not just any man though. The man that had so intelligently corrupted Gotham City. He was Falcone and head chief of the Underworld. Any major crime that was in the works, he knew about it. Every time a bank was robbed or a car bomb went off or a serial killer struck again, he had a hand in it.

But as they stared at him, he was a completely different man. He wore an orange jumpsuit complete with a pocket on the right side of his chest. Staring up at the light he repeated the same word over and over again in fear, "Scarecrow, Scarecrow, Scarecrow."

Rachel had so much hatred for the man building up over the years but as she stared at him as he lied there so helplessly, she pitied him. She felt sorry for him. But she could not forgive him.

She began to question Jonathan Crane about who the Scarecrow was and being the know-it-all he was, Crane gave her a very complicated answer. He had a sharp appeal to him with the suit he wore and his stick straight hair hanging wildly about his head looking as if he had just showered. He pushed up his glasses higher on his nose and led Rachel past Falcone as the two of them continued their conversation further.

- She shook herself out of the memory and brought herself back to the present. Harvey had stopped screaming and the two doctors that had been hanging behind Rachel since she had arrived were now tending to him. She knew who to call.

She rushed out of the room, blocking out the voice and picked up her cell phone. Speed dial #1 though she would never admit it to him. Bruce.

Bruce Wayne was Batman. He scoured the streets searching for criminals. He had a new criminal mastermind to find. He went by Joker. His Batmobile roared across the open freeway, free of traffic. Its large body taking up two lanes at an alarming speed.

_Ring, ring, ring_. Bruce reached down and grabbed his phone. "Hello?" he said in the threatening tone he used as Batman.

"Bruce, it's Rachel," Rachel said quickly. "We've got a problem."

"Talk faster Rach," Bruce told her, back to his normal tone of voice. "I need to get home."

"Well you need to get over to the hospital now. My boss, Harvey Dent is seriously hurt. You know the one that's working with you to capture the Joker. Well, the Joker captured him if you catch my drift."

Bruce cursed loudly, forcing Rachel to pull the phone back. "Alright. Which hospital."

"Eastside Gotham Hospital, off of Marion and Broadway," she told him. "And Bruce," she said in a much quieter tone, "hurry."

Bruce hung up the phone and pulled the stick shift, the car flying up the freeway. He made a sharp jerk and twisted the wheel quickly. The batmobile swerved in a perfect U turn, then took off down the road towards the hospital. The Joker was huge trouble and for the first time in a long time, Bruce Wayne and Batman - two and one the same - was a lost soul.


	6. Chapter 6: Bloodfeud Alliance

Chapter 6: Bloodfeud Alliance

"Damnit Bruce, where are you!" Rachel screamed into the phone, pacing impatiently up and down the hospital corridor just outside Harvey's room. It had been nearly an hour since she had last talked to him and Bruce Wayne was nowhere to be found. She had left him, at the very least, sixteen messages, and no reply. Wherever he was, she needed him and, as far as she knew, he had bailed on her.

It was at least another hour before Bruce showed up, and when he did, he burst through the hospital doors, swinging them wildly, Lucius Fox at his heels. The owner of Wayne Manor was clad in a suit and blazer, his long black hair rumpled, his eyes bloodshot. "Rachel, thank G-d you're here," he panted.

"Leave G-d out of this," Rachel said acidly. "Where the hell have you been? It's been at least two hours since I last called you!"

"Look, Rachel, I know what this looks like," Bruce said, trying to catch his breath. "But –"

"No 'buts' this time, Bruce," Rachel said, refusing to listen to him. "I needed you tonight and you weren't there."

"BU-U-U-T," Bruce said, shouting over her to be heard. "When I heard what happened to Harvey, I came to Lucius here, whose been working on an antidote, ever since the Joker first used this chemical, back on Theodore Reyes. It's an advanced compound made up of the same chemical that the Scarecrow and Ra'as Al'Ghul used. Actually we believe that's who he got it from and was able to advance it to fit his needs. Judging by the location of his first murder and his understanding of complex chemicals, we believe him to have formerly been a one Joe Kerr, who worked both day and night shift at a laboratory on the fifteenth floor of Wayne Tower."

"That's great," Rachel said sardonically. "But how does that help Harvey?"

"Weren't you listening?" Bruce asked. "We've got the antidote right here," he said, showing her a small flask filled with a sickly-yellowish liquid that reminded her of stale apple juice.

She grabbed it from him and ran into Harvey's room. They followed. She pulled up a syringe, emptied the flask into it and then handed it to Lucius, who took the syringe and injected it properly into Harvey, who was now so overdosed on morphene and opeates, he barely realized what was happening.

It was four hours before they saw any change. Rachel sat by Harvey's sleeping side as Bruce came in from the cafeteria, handing her a fresh cup of hot coffee, throwing the last, now-empty cup into a small trashbin, formerly empty, now filled with eight drained cups of coffee. "How's he doing?" Bruce asked, taking a seat opposite Rachel.

"No change," she said, wiping a few stained tears from her eyes. "The doctors said that if he continues on like this, he may fall into a coma and, I talked to Lucius, and he said if Harvey does become comatose, then there's absolutely no chance of the antidote working."

Bruce patted her on the forearm reassuringly before taking her hand in his. "Hey, don't worry," he told her. "I'm sure everything's going to be fine."

She wiped a few more tears from her face and took a long drain from her cup before widening her eyes at Harvey, who had woke and was staring round widely.

"Harvey!" Rachel breathed ecstatically. "You're awake!"

Harvey smiled gratefully. "Fit as a fiddle, I'd say, though I'm probably wr-wr-_wroong_," he said, flexing his mouth in confusement.

"It's quite alright," came Lucius's voice from the door. "Your speech patterns will correct themselves shortly. Just sit and rest for now."

Harvey looked up and smiled appreciatively. Bruce looked at Lucius, who nodded discreetly, before he turned to Rachel. Her eyes met his. Oh, what beautiful eyes they were. How much he wished he could… No! He had to do it. "Rachel, would you go get the doctor? I'm sure he'll want to examine his patient."

Rachel stared unassuredly at Bruce before Lucius said, "Come on, Rachel, I think I'll accompany you."

Arguing no longer, Rachel stood up and said quietly, "Okay, I'll be back," before leaving with Lucius. Bruce strode quickly to the door, closed and locked it and walked back to his chair, Harvey staring wide-eyed at him, an expression of complete surprise on his face.

"Harvey," Bruce said seriously, "I need you to listen to me. It's very important that you do." Harvey nodded. Bruce continued. "I'm sure you are familiar with Batman? Yes? Good. Let's just say that I know him personally. The reason you were attacked is because your head D.A. And you're the best damn D.A. this city's ever seen. And when, not if, Joker is caught, you'd be the one to prosecute him and he'd have no chance of escaping prosecution nor prison. Joker is seriously ill, Harvey. He belongs in a strait-jacket in an insane asylum. He is psychotic and prone to violence. He does not laugh because he wants to, nor does he smile because he wishes it. He has no control over his moves, though always remember: He's a former scientist, and from what records show, a damn good one. He's smart. Catching him won't be an easy task. That's where you come in. I've already discussed this with Lieutenant Gordon and Batman. We need to form an alliance to stop this madman from running rampant all across town. Being Head D.A. and all, you'd be a top-priority member of this alliance and would know all of our dealings in stopping the Joker. No other lawyers may know about this. No other members of the D.A's office, do you understand? None, except possibly Rachel, though I'll let you know if we include her. When mentioning it, for grave reasons of anonymity, say it's a Wayne Project."

Harvey nodded gravely. "A Bloodfeud Alliance, eh? You have my full support, rest assured"

Bruce smiled weakly and nodded. "Very well, I thank you for your time." And he departed.

"Hey, did you talk to him?" Gordon asked. It was a dark, dim night, as were all nights in Gotham City of late. They were standing on top of Wayne Tower, where the sign for Batman had been put up. Bruce, in full Batman stylings, crouched, looking over the edge of the building. It made Gordon, who had a terrible fear of heights, uneasy. He gulped.

"I told you I would," Batman said in a deeper voice than was Bruce's.

"And?"

"He's in." Batman's face was still as stone. He looked much like the gargoyle statues that guarded the corners of several buildings. Clad in black armor (at least, Gordon thought it was armor), he appeared a force to be reckoned with, his fists clenched tightly.

Gordon approached slowly, careful to stay clear of the edge, making sure a wide berth was between him and it. There was no railing, only sandy pebbles easily tripped on, which made Gordon queasy with fright. "So what're you going to do?" he asked.

Batman, who had previously been crouching, stood up, still not looking at Gordon. At last, he turned and stared hard into Gordon's eyes. "What a predator always does when he wants his prize: Hunt."

"What does that mean exactly?"

Batman turned back to the starry night sky, looked down at the street far below him. "Let's just say that there'll be hell to pay… And the devil's come collecting." And he dove from the edge, leaping out of sight.


End file.
